Red Threads, Frayed Ends
by Konatsu's Secret Scroll
Summary: Two years on, Ranma and Akane are finally getting married. That's where the story begins. But Ranma and Akane are not the only ones affected, and now everyone around them must cope with growing up and moving on. Multiple POVs, various pairings. (May feature unorthodox pairings down the line, so if that doesn't float your boat.. well, that's that.)
1. Ranma

{NOTE. I've been rereading Ranma 1/2 for the first time in over a decade. If you notice any glaring factual errors, feel free to point them out. Otherwise, I ask for your indulgence. This is my personal response to these characters, who I'm just getting to know again, but who have lived in my head for a long long time. I don't have a clear plan but I'm not obsessed about any particular pairings and might explore various relationships as I go on. If that's not your thing you might not love this - I'm letting you know now so that no one will feel surprised or annoyed later. But if you're cool with that, I'd love to have you along for the ride!}

**I. Ranma**

"Say it."

Ranma shook his head, sucking his lips inward.

"Say it!" Akane tried to sound flirtatious, but there was a threatening note in her voice. Ranma found it enthralling. He popped a piece of candy into his mouth and shook his head again, making a show of being unable to answer.

"Say. It." Akane leaned forward menacingly, clenching her fists.

"All right, all right! You're... cute."

Akane leaned back on her heels, beaming.

"Kind of. Sometimes," Ranma amended, and was promptly rewarded with a pinch on his arm. "Ow!" he yelped.

Akane tackled him, and both dissolved into laughter. The insults they traded had moved from anger to habit, from habit to a sort of game. Ranma loved to see Akane smile, loved laughing with her, but sometimes he wished he didn't have to play the game. The worst was knowing that he had done it to her. He had called her uncute so many times – how many more times would he need to cancel that out? He wanted to tell her that it didn't matter, but he wasn't sure he could make her understand. Having a pretty wife, a sweet wife, a wife who can cook – all of that sounded nice enough, but he didn't think it was enough to base a marriage on. Just look at how his parents ended up.

How could he tell Akane that he wanted his children to train – not to be the best, but to protect themselves and others? How could he tell her that he didn't want to end up like his pop? How could he tell her how much that thought terrified him?

How could he marry her if he was too afraid to tell her what he really thought?

But he and Akane had never done things the ordinary way. They had come so far, it could only get better from here, right? So he cracked jokes – "I can't wait 'til we're married, I'll get to have take-out every night!" – and she fumed, and they laughed, and he hoped she understood what he was really saying, and prayed she wouldn't run out of patience.


	2. Ukyou

**II. Ukyou**

"It'll be great for business." Ukyou leaned over the cash register, pretending to count. Beside her Konatsu was furiously scrubbing a stubborn stain on the grill.

"Yes, Ukyou-sama," he answered.

"This wedding will be the event of the year, catered by Ucchan! I want to put together something cute, to show off our stuff. An okonomiyaki wedding cake! Of course there will be regular okonomiyaki too, and more, but we have to do something extra. We can take photos and put them up in the window. It'll be great publicity."

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."

"It's too bad it's not a western-style wedding. On the other hand, traditional is good. It fits our image. Tradition and innovation. That's not half bad, is it?"

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."

"It was so nice of Ranchan to ask me to cook. He knows how good it will be for the Ucchan. Notice he didn't ask Shampoo. Not that she would have done it anyway – you know, I haven't heard a peep out of her this whole time. Just goes to show, some people only care about themselves. _Some _people are only interested in their 'friends' when they think they can get something out of them."

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."

"A western-style wedding would be nice, though. Ranchan looks good in a suit. I think he would have asked me to be his best man. That would have been nice. But as it is, catering is still good. I think it'll really help us out. It's time to breathe new life into this place. I've been thinking for years about expanding. If that goes well, maybe we can open up another location. That'd be something, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, Ukyou-s––damn it!" Ukyou jerked her head around. Konatsu was staring in dismay at his torn, bleeding thumb nail. Ukyou hurried over to him, taking his hand in both of hers and lifting it for examination.

"Jesus, Konatsu. It's only a stain. It doesn't matter that much. Your poor hands!"

"I know. I ought to take better care of them," Konatsu said in a quavering voice. "I've let you down. Who would want to be served by a girl with such rough, unkempt hands?"

"Jesus, Konatsu!" Ukyou swore again, unsure how else to respond. "That's not what I meant. I'm glad you're working hard, but don't _hurt _yourself, for God's sake!" Idly she ran her thumb over the fine black hair that covered the back of his hand, and felt a tremor run through it. _Don't you understand anything? _she wanted to snap, but she knew it would only upset him more. Anger was not the right approach to take with Konatsu.

"Yes, Ukyou-sama. I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said, with exaggerated cheerfulness. "Here, I have an idea. Why don't we go for manicures together before the wedding? My treat."

"Really?" Konatsu asked, forgetting himself in his excitement and clutching her hands. "Oh Ukyou-sama, you're too kind!"

"Not at all. It'll be fun."

"Yes. Fun," Konatsu repeated rapturously. Ukyou puzzled over how easy it was to make him happy. It made her nervous, sometimes. His threshold for joy was set so low, she wasn't sure she would recognize real happiness if she saw it in him. She drew away from Konatsu and ran her finger over the grill. It was spotless.

"It'll be great for business. An auspicious new year for the Ucchan. Our best year yet! And Konatsu?"

"Yes, Ukyou-sama?"

"This time will be different. It will _not _be like last time."

"Yes, Ukyou-sama."


	3. Shampoo

**III. Shampoo**

"What's going on?"

Shampoo started, the place between her shoulder blades tensing as it did when she was a cat. Mousse was growing less timid than he had once been. Although he'd never been shy about declaring his love for Shampoo – the louder and more publicly the better – three years ago he would not have dared to approach her like this in private.

"Shampoo?" he pressed.

"Nothing," she answered in Mandarin. "Leave me alone."

Shampoo didn't turn around, but she knew that Mousse had not left the doorway where he hovered, watching her.

"Will you go the wedding?" Mousse asked, after a long silence. His voice was gentle, but his speech was stilted and unnatural. He was trying too hard to mask the awkwardness of the question.

"Wedding?" she repeated, as if she had no idea what he meant. She wasn't sure why she did it, except that even now she could not admit defeat. But there was something more to it, a desire to make Mousse feel foolish, to punish him for thinking he could intrude on her grief, for daring to presume that he comfort her… but Mousse didn't bite, so she added shortly, "No. I won't be here."

"Where are you going?" Mousse asked, his mask of calm slipping.

"On a training journey. It is long overdue."

"An excellent idea," Mousse said deferentially. "Where will you go? Back to China?"

"No, not China."

"Somewhere in Japan?"

"Somewhere different. Too much of the same, you grow weak. New sights, new dangers, keep you on your toes."

"Where will you go?"

Shampoo shrugged. "I've thought about Australia."

"_Australia?_ What's in Australia?"

"I don't know. Spiders. Kangaroos. Rocks. Desert. Me, soon."

"But you don't speak English!"

"_Hello,_" said Shampoo in short, singsong English, "_How are you, thank you, tourist, China, do you have hot water?_"

"Shampoo! What will your great-grandmother say?"

"She won't know until I'm gone. Don't look at me like that. I'm a woman, and I can make this choice for myself. How will I ever become a strong leader if I don't take my training into my own hands?"

"I'm not sure she'll see it that way. I'm not sure it justifies _Australia._"

"I'll make her see it that way."

Mousse slipped away for several minutes, and Shampoo returned to studying her English phrasebook. When he returned she started again.

"Let me come with you," he said.

"No!"

"I'll help you. Carry your things. Cook your meals. Be your punching bag."

"Absolutely not."

"Shampoo, you can't just wander off into the desert on your own!"

"Of course," she cried, suddenly brimming with anger. "I don't have a say in the matter. You'll just follow me – like you did when I came to Japan, like you always do. Why should I think I could actually plan something for myself?"

Mousse looked abashed, and for a moment Shampoo saw a glimpse of the nervous boy he had been. "I won't follow you if you don't want me to."

"Why should I believe that?"

"Because you need me here. You'll need me to smooth things over with your grandmother. And to keep business running. I'll lie to her, if you want me to. I'll tell her whatever you say. If you get into trouble, I'll be here, waiting by the phone. Otherwise, I won't bother you, I swear. Shampoo, just let me help."

"So noble! So self-sacrificing! When it suits you," Shampoo hissed. Still, it was a better offer than she had hoped for, and she knew she ought to take advantage. "You will do everything as I say. You will tell great-grandmother I am on a training journey, but you will not tell her where I am. I will come up with a story. You will make sure she does not send anyone after me. You will make sure the Nekohanten is open and running as usual. You will send me money if I need it."

"Yes," said Mousse. He waited expectantly, but Shampoo had drifted into her reading again. "And the wedding?" he prompted.

Shampoo looked up, feigning astonishment. "What wedding?" she asked.


	4. Ryouga, Shampoo, Konatsu

**IV. Ryouga, Shampoo, Konatsu**

Ryouga was different. Ryouga was better. He would not let anger or envy control him. Envy? What envy? He had a sweet, loving girlfriend, and a place to call home, more or less. He had everything he'd ever wanted.

And yet, when he received the wedding invitation – postmarked two months before – he found himself huddled uncertainly in a payphone booth, index finger hovering over the last digit of Akari's number. It had begun to rain outside. He was stuck.

He fully expected Shampoo, Ukyou and the mad Kunou siblings to crash the wedding. After all these years, he couldn't see it ending any other way. But he would not display any such hysterics. He was different. He was better, stronger.

When he told Akari they had to break it off, it felt like a dream. He could hear her sobbing softly over the line, and felt a rush of unjust anger toward her. He wanted her to argue, to fight him, not to accept his shoddy behavior so willingly.

Akane would have fought him.

Ryouga prayed that he would not reach Nerima in time. For the first time in his life, he actively hoped that his directional curse would work against him. That was probably how he managed to end up in front of the Tendou Dojo, two nights before the wedding.

"You're different, you're better, you're stronger," he murmured to himself.

º• º• º• º• º• º• º• º

"All right," Shampoo said, leaning in the doorway as Mousse so often did to her. She felt a small glow of satisfaction when he jumped like a cat.

"All right, what?"

"You can come with me."

Mousse gaped at her. "Why?"

"Like you said, I need you to carry my things. One thing I'll say for you is that you're the best cargo carrier I've ever known. And I'll need you to cook, too."

"But what about the restaurant? And your great-grandmother?"

"We'll work something out. Come with me, or don't. I won't offer again." Shampoo moved closer and lowered her voice conspirationally, although no one else was in. "We'll leave the morning of the wedding. That way, we'll have a good head start. Whatever happens, grandmother will assume it's part of some scheme to spoil the wedding. By the time she suspects we're gone, we'll be in Australia!"

"Australia," Mousse repeated, clearly dazed. "You were serious?" He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his unfocused gaze made Shampoo want to laugh.

"Start packing. The wedding is this weekend. We leave before dawn."

With what must have been great effort, Mousse locked his eyes on her face, and asked with an affected air of innocence, "What wedding?"

Shampoo smiled.

º• º• º• º• º• º• º• º

Konatsu's heart beat rapidly. He stared out the second-story window, watching a cat bathe itself, but his mind was elsewhere. He could barely suppress a grin. He tried to be gentle, composed, sympathetic for Ukyou. He knew that, despite her optimistic talk, she was devastated. She chattered endlessly about business, and he tried not to let on that he saw through her act. It was plain to see, though, because Ukyou never _chattered_ when all was well.

And still he felt elated. It wasn't her words, although he shared all her hopes for the future. No, what really got Konatsu, made the breath catch in his throat, was the way she had said, "we." We, us, ours – Ukyou had never spoken about her restaurant that way before. Now it slipped out, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was. Konatsu would never leave, not by choice. "Our business," he mouthed silently, another girlish giggle bubbling up inside him. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass pane, he exhaled. Then he traced the words with a featherlight touch: "Our home." He laughed, and the glass fogged over again.


	5. Ryouga

**V. Ryouga**

"–I can't help it if I'm nervous, not after last time. I know two years have passed, but you'd hardly know it sometimes. And it would take a lot longer than that to forget what happened. Maybe it's stupid to worry the same thing will happen again, but how many failed weddings can one person take? Don't pretend you don't understand–"

Ryouga nudged the door with his snout. Akane whirled around. "P-chan!" she cried, eyes widening. "Where on earth have you been?"

It was true that he had almost stopped coming to her in the last two years. But what harm was there in one more night? He trotted dutifully over to Akane, casting a glare at Ranma who was sitting on the floor in female form. Akane cooed over P-chan, settling him into her lap. "You must have known. You must have known a very special day is coming up!" Then, turning her attention back to Ranma, she said, "Anyway." Ryouga felt the vibration of her voice through his small body. "Ranma, I– I'm happy, I am, but–"

But? Ryouga's ears perked up.

"I don't wanna talk about this now," Ranma said brusquely. Akane seemed shocked, but only for a moment.

"Really, Ranma? You're going to let this poor little piggy stop you from – you are unbelievable!"

"It's not that," Ranma said, a little too hastily. "I just don't wanna talk about it!"

"No, I want to talk about this. This! How much have I put up with from you, because it's just the way Ranma Saotome does things? But I can't even have a pet without you getting huffy about it…"

"I am not getting huffy! He's not even your pet. He hasn't been here in months!"

"See, you're avoiding the point!"

Ranma took a deep breath. She had evidently come a long way toward controlling her temper, but she had not perfected the skill yet. Then, after a moment, she turned her face downward, but Ryouga thought he perceived a quietly mocking tone when she spoke. "Akane, I don't want to fight over this. I've got nothing against P-chan. If you really like the stupid pig, then I like him too. Here boy!" Ranma patted her knees. Ryouga refused to budge. Akane, however, seemed delighted.

"Go on, P-chan," she murmured. "Ranma is trying to make friends! Who knows when he'll act this normal again!" Ryouga tried to burrow deeper into her lap, but she scooped him up and handed him over to Ranma. Ranma held him up to her face, fingers digging into his ribs. With false sweetness she said, "Oh, we'll get along just fine! We'll be best buddies, right, piggy?" Then she smirked down at Ryouga, as if to say, what now?

It was a simple yet effective strategy. Ryouga began to wish he hadn't come in.

Akane laughed. "Ranma, I know it's not easy for you to swallow your pride. And I know you don't really like him – yet. But I appreciate the effort. I really do." She smiled warmly, then leaned forward and kissed her.

Ryouga felt as if his heart would stop. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he was pressed between the two female forms. He felt Ranma's heart pounding rapidly, but Akane's was calm. Ranma broke away, blushing furiously. "Akane," he whined.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just. I mean. We're both girls right now," Ranma mumbled with embarrassment.

"Oh, come _on._ It can't bother you that much. It doesn't bother me." Akane was trying to be encouraging, but Ranma only grew redder. Ryouga suspected his presence might have something to do with that. "You're still the same Ranma. Who cares? I don't."

"I know, but…"

"But what? You still like kissing me when you're a girl, right?" A teasing tone crept into Akane's voice.

"Of course I do," Ranma said.

"So why should you care what anyone else might think?" Akane pressed her forehead against Ranma's. They formed an arch with P-chan in between. "I like when you're a girl. I like when you're a boy, too, obviously, but it's somehow – it's easier. I feel like I can talk to you this way. I'm sorry if that sounds bad, but I want you to know. That's how I feel."

"No," Ranma said softly. "I can see that." Perhaps she had forgotten Ryouga's presence.

P-chan scrambled away abruptly, breaking the moment. Ryouga felt ashamed. He knew he had heard something he ought not to have. He knew he should not have come back at all. But he had been drawn there as if by a force beyond his control. It had always been that way with Ranma and Akane. One step forward, two steps back, he thought with despair.

The worst part, though, was the feeling of elation that swelled within him. For just a moment, pressed between Ranma and Akane, he had been blissfully happy. He recalled his old, half-forgotten fantasy of becoming P-chan forever. He knew he didn't really want that, but for a moment he let himself imagine it could be so. For a moment, he felt there was a place for him in Ranma and Akane's world, that he was not just another pathetic suitor. He was different, he was special. He had a purpose. He belonged there, with them.

These thoughts felt like a grotesque betrayal of the man he had become, of his friendship with Ranma and the love he had sacrificed for Akane. And so he ran.


End file.
